


heat not a furnace

by greenconverses



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:18:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenconverses/pseuds/greenconverses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all the money they spend on their apartment, a working heater should be easy to find. But no. Nico and Rachel have to find an alternate way to warm up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heat not a furnace

Over the last three years, it's become an almost absolute certainty that on the coldest and snowiest days of winter, the heat in Nico and Rachel's apartment can and will most definitely stop working. 

For all the money they shell out for this place on a monthly basis, one would think that buying a working heater so the tenants don't freeze to death would be easy enough to do, but apparently their landlord thinks otherwise. Every winter Rachel swears she's going to learn to fix the thing herself and every winter Nico tells her not to bother because they will be moving the second the lease is up, but so far, neither things have come to pass. 

Instead, they stock up on down blankets to pile on the bed and couch, buy a large supply of candles and a space heater, and pack their closets with woolen socks, sweaters, and hideous long underwear that usually makes having sex hilariously awkward and ridiculous. 

And they have a _lot_ of sex when the heat goes out, mostly due to the fact that Rachel's the worst little spoon ever when she's cold and it's impossible not to want to fuck her first thing in the morning after her ass was pressed into his crotch all damn night. Sex keeps them warm and entertained too, and it's a certainly a nice pick me up in the mornings when he wakes up and can't feel his nose. 

They're little out of practice when a cold snap comes through in the last week of January, bringing in enough wind, snow and ice to shut the city down and give people an early weekend. The weather has just been too nice this winter and they've barely had need for the heater, so Nico hopes that it managed to save up some energy to fight this weather. 

But when he wakes up on Saturday to the tell-tale wheezing of the heater on its last breath and Rachel's curses as she slams the hallway closet door shut, he knows that's not meant to be.

Their bedroom is still warm, thank goodness, because Nico has to go drag the space heater from their storage locker in the basement of the building and he's in no mood to move when he's comfy. 

“What good is the Internet if it can't tell me how to make my heater less sucky?” Rachel grumbles as she enters the room, and he hears her bare feet padding along the wood floor toward the bed. “I knew I should've dated a Hephaestus kid.”

“I heard that,” Nico replies, voice thick and gruff from sleep. He rolls over, and blinks the gray light of an overcast morning out of his eyes. “I'm good at fixin' other stuff.”

He sucks in a breath when he catches sight of his girlfriend. Rachel's wearing his leather jacket, which barely manages to cover the pair of lace panties he's sure he peeled off her the night before, and she has it unzipped just enough for Nico to see that, no, she really didn't decide to put on a bra before hopping out of bed either. Her hair's up in some sort of messy ponytail, red curls effortlessly falling free around her face, and cheeks flushed pink in frustration. 

Nico gulps, instantly awake and with an aching hard-on underneath the sheets. Rachel's kind of remarkably oblivious about how goddamn dead sexy she is, and Nico's kind of thankful for that because he already wants to fuck her into the mattress every waking hour of his day _without_ her trying. 

“Your motorcycle is no where near as important as the heater,” Rachel replies, tucking one of those wayward curls behind her ear. “Really, by now, one of us should have learned.”

“Mhmm,” Nico says, reaching out for her. “I'll learn after I fuck you, okay?”

“Men,” Rachel sighs, but he feels her shiver when he hooks a finger in the corner of those lace panties and pulls her on top of him. 

He remembers, not so long ago, when physically intimacy with Rachel Dare was an impossible dream and the very act of kissing her could get them both in dire trouble with a certain outlandish sun god. Even though that's changed now, Nico doesn't think the novelty of her touch will ever wear off. 

She laughs as pushes aside the blankets and straddles him; the laughter's interrupted with a sharp intake of breath as he rolls his hips up into hers, making sure she feels how hard he is for her already. He sits up and tugs on the lapels of the jacket, like she's done so many times while he's been wearing it, drawing her into a slow, searing kiss that he hopes she can feel right down to the tips of her toes. 

Rachel tastes like coffee, even though it's too early for her to have had a cup, and her mouth is warm and eager. The jacket makes her smell like him – leather and smoke and _danger_ – and it turns Nico on in such a primal, instinctive way. Rachel's _his_ – not Apollo's Oracle, not Percy's or Jason's or Leo's, but _his_ for as long as she wants him. 

She moans into his mouth as his hands slide into the gap of the jacket, cupping her bare breasts. Her nipples are hard points already and he rubs a thumb in circles against one, seeking out that moan again and he gets it, easily. 

“Nico,” she breathes, digging her hands in his hair as his mouth moves down the freckled column of her neck. “Gods, you're too much sometimes... ”

He laughs, pulling his hands away so he can unzip the jacket a bit more and expose her breasts to the morning light. He loves that her freckles are everywhere on her body, but especially that they're sprinkled on the tops and between the valley of her breasts. Rachel's breasts are amazing – everything about Rachel is amazing, come to think of it, but Nico's a breast man, and hers are exactly the sort that make his mouth water.

“We've just gotten started, Dare,” he says as moves his mouth down. He glances at up at her as he swipes his tongue over one of her pink nipples, watching as her eyes flutter and mouth parts in a gasp. “'Sides, if I can't fix the heater, I gotta keep you warm somehow.”

Whatever snarky reply Rachel's planning on letting fly in response is lost in her cry as he draws her nipple in his mouth, sucking and laving it with his tongue until Rachel's hips are rutting into his, rubbing over his dick and making him groan deep in his chest. The jacket's zipper bites into his cheek as he moves her other side, but he sensation only adds to his pleasure, even if he knows he might have some weird marks to explain away later.

His hands span her back and then slip out from under the jacket's edge, moving into her panties and cupping her ass, holding her still. Rachel makes a distressed, desperate little noise at the loss of friction and Nico takes pity on her, moving his hand a little lower and sliding his middle finger into her slit.

“Nico!”

His name's a strangled gasp as he presses his finger in and out of her, and she presses him closer, head resting on his and moaning hotly into his hair. He can tell by the hitch in her voice that she's close and he presses deeper, crooking his finger, searching for that one spot that'll make her see stars. 

Rachel cries out, her body trembling as her orgasm washes over her, and Nico smirks into her skin before he presses a kiss to the inside of her breast and straightens. 

“Gods, you're good,” she mutters with a giggle, green eyes sparkling and cheeks flushed with arousal. She leans to kiss him, the coffee taste on her lips still lingering. “Can I take the jacket off, or are you still enjoying it?”

“Jacket stays on,” he says, rolling them over and pinning her on her back. “I want you to think of this,” he yanks her panties down her legs and spreads her wide before thrusting into her, making her back arch, “whenever you see me in it from now on.”

He punctuates each word with a thrust, so Rachel's writhing desperately beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulder. Nico pauses just for a moment so he can take in the sight of her body pooled in his jacket, her red hair splayed across the pillows, and chest heaving. She's otherworldly, a goddess, and she's entirely too perfect for him to have. 

“Harder,” Rachel urges, wrapping her legs around his waist and digging her heels into his ass to push him forward. “I don't want you to stop until I come.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says, like it's a hard thing to agree to. He's grinning as he bends to kiss her. He pulls his hips back and slams into her, causing them both to moan with delight. 

Rachel's hand sneaks between their bodies, reaching to give herself that extra boost over the edge, and, embarrassingly, it's the feel of the rough, warn edges of the jacket's arm cuffs against his lower stomach that send Nico spiraling after her with a shout. 

“See, if I was a son of Hephaestus,” he pants as he stills his thrusts, kissing every inch of skin he can reach. “I would've been feeling up the heater instead of you this entire time. And we just can't have that.”

“Brat,” Rachel replies, but she's smiling and it's the sort of smile that makes Nico's knees wobbly and reminds him that he really should get around to proposing at some point. 

Distantly, he hears the heater give one last, distinctive wheeze before it shudders to a stop and the warm air pouring through the vents suddenly cuts off, but Rachel’s fumbling with the zipper on the jacket and sliding an arm off so she can wrap him in the worn material too. 

“I should go get the space heater,” he protests, but he’s sleepy and comfortable and well-fucked, so he doesn’t really mean it.

“Yeah, you should,” she says, stroking his hair. “But I’d rather you stay with me instead.”

That Nico can do.

**Author's Note:**

> Writtenf for the promt Nico/Rachel, leather.


End file.
